


A Little DEATH

by Nedrika



Category: Megalo Box (Anime)
Genre: Injury, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Physical Disability, Rehabilitation, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22666087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nedrika/pseuds/Nedrika
Summary: Yuri didn't expect to see Joe after their fight was over, but then he hadn't considered the consequences much at all.
Relationships: Joe | Junk Dog/Yuuri
Comments: 6
Kudos: 116
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	A Little DEATH

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampireNaomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireNaomi/gifts).



The first time Yuri saw Joe after the Final it was in his hospital room.

He'd been in there for days, maybe a week; he couldn't be sure how long between the nauseating anaesthetics, bland meals and the endless testing. It was becoming easier to sleep without the slight hum and vibration that had become a natural past of falling asleep, and they had finally allowed him into a wheelchair to get the freedom of the halls and out of the constricting and unchanging four walls. Being trapped in the room was too much like being back in Mikio's basement, locked in as his body burned and ripped.

The kid, Sachio, had knocked timidly against the pristine glass of the door as Joe stood silently behind him, thumbs tucked into his belt with a completely casual air. He nodded to acknowledge them as they entered, Sachio staring wide-eyed at the vague shape of his immobile legs beneath his white bed sheet, Joe sauntering in with a slight cock of his head as greeting. 

"The old man's in for some checkups," Sachio said too quickly to properly sell it. "Is now a good time?"

"It's fine, thank you for coming by."

"We brought grapes," Joe said, a slanted smile across his face as he landed the bag heavily against the bedside table, noticeably away from the bundled fan gifts and bouquets that he'd had collected out of the way in the corner of room where he didn't have to see them. 

The kid came up to his bedside, barely above the level of the mattress, and pulled awkwardly at the strap of his bag.

"Um, sorry you ended up like this," he said. Yuri hadn't expected it and hadn't wanted it, but before he could formulate a response Joe pushed Sachio's hat over his eyes in rebuke with a sharp 'hey'.

"There's nothing to apologise for," Yuri said, as even as he could as Sachio pulled himself free of the orange folds. "I don't regret it, and don't do us the disservice of saying that you do. That fight was more than a value judgement."

He could see him mull it over, passing the brim between his hands as he slowly came to terms, and he couldn't help but smile at Joe's obvious pride when Sachio looked back up at him with bright eyes.

"Alright," he said, settling into a happier stance. "Well, the old man's asked me to see about scraping together some old respirators for the gym, so I'll catch you later!" 

With that he was off at a jog with his hand raised in farewell, the shouts of the nurses following him down the hall.

"Troublemaker," Joe laughed as he eased himself into a creaking chair. 

"You've got a good team."

"Yeah, they've done right by me," he said softly, sighing as he shifted forward to lean against his knees. He looked down at Yuri's legs and his eyes took on a sharper and more recognisable analytic quality. 

"Will you recover?" he asked, cutting straight to the heart of the issue. "Nobody's giving me a straight answer."

Yuri gave a dry chuckle, staring down the length of a body he'd once had supreme control over to twitch his toes. 

"There isn't a straight answer, even though I've enough wins under my belt to get worthwhile opinions. Between the removal and the extended bouts something slipped, maybe cut. Only time will tell."

Joe hummed, chin dropping in contemplation so all Yuri could see was the riot of black curls. There was a twitch and he thought that he was going to offer some of the prize money, and he appreciated when the moment passed in silence.

"Would you look after my dog while I'm in here?" Yuri offered, and Joe's head snapped back up in shock, a grin spreading across his face. "He's staying with Mikio right now but he's got a lot of flights coming up, and you two seemed to get on well."

"Sure thing," he said, leaning back. "Sachio'll prob'ly have him training before you get back, so don't be shocked if you spot him dragging truck tyres around." 

"That sounds perfect, Hachi needs a lot of exercising. He deserves a new bone as well; he's the one that brought help when I collapsed."

"That's two bones and a belly rub, at least."

"I never thought a stray dog would be one for pets."

"We've as many things in common as we do differences, y'know," he chuckled.

It was strange to meet him without the fierce hunger and tension of the challenge between them, and they settled into a comfortable banter as Yuri mulled it over. The antagonism had been there from the very beginning, and yet this Joe smiled easily and fussed with his sheets. It was strange, but by no means unpleasant.

Joe didn't visit him in hospital again, but Yuri kept tabs on him through his various news appearances. He was everywhere, even if he always seemed to be trying to wriggle out of frame. The furore his vacating the title caused was endless as people speculated about his reasons, but if they couldn't understand now they likely never would. It was at least enough of a carnival that it had eclipsed his surgery and hospitalisation, Yukiko's curt statement along with the lack of updates from his own publicist leaving them too little to make a meal out of. That short and cursory Shirato announcement after the final was the last he'd heard from her, as circuitous as it was; while he knew she would never forgive him, he still believed that she would come to understand why he'd done it. That would be enough.

The next time he saw him in the flesh was when he was discharged.

Despite never being expected or even told the details there he was in the atrium, taking his paperwork from the starstruck receptionist with a thank you and good day, having somehow dismissed the people that were supposed to be meeting him. He slipped the bag of essentials onto his back and settled in behind his chair as though it were completely natural. 

Yuri waited until they were navigating the labyrinthine car park before he addressed it, having abandoned any hope of Joe explaining himself.

"Are you my new nurse?"

"Yeah, not as pretty as the others but I'm what you're getting."

"I guess you'll have to do," he relented. "I can wheel myself, you know."

Joe scoffed behind him. "Don't worry, you'll get your turn. I took my bike here and all the money's tied up in the new gym, so there's nothing left to take a taxi back to yours."

He bit back offering to get one himself, the idea of being in the fresh autumn air too appealing after weeks surrounded by the smell of disinfectant. Instead he occupied himself wondering how he knew his address, flicking through mental notes of who could be the leak.

The trip ended up taking the rest of the afternoon. Conversation meandered through fights and techniques to the boxers and megalo boxers that they considered the most interesting or relevant for the sport as it stood, with only minor flattery on both sides. He was surprised to hear him speak highly of various brands of gear and the merits of different constructions, even if they both understood the thrill of being gearless; that brought them onto the future, and whether others would go without. It was strange how often they agreed, the first real disagreements not entering the conversation until the sun was beginning to set and they began setting up hypothetical matches between old legends. By the time they neared the house Yuri was turned around in his chair and Joe was thundering along the road, both of them with raised voices, incredulous smiles and burning eyes. As soon as he was through the door Hachi bounded into his arms in a whirlwind of licks and nuzzles and yips. Joe left them to it as he dropped off the bag and started reheating something in the kitchen, which only raised more questions that would never be answered.

From there the routine established itself easily. Joe fit into his home painlessly, even if he clashed with all the furniture and was always putting his feet up on things he shouldn't. 

"I don't have anywhere else to be," Joe said once, dog sprawled across his lap as he scrolled through product listings for the gym's new purchases. "I can work on my bike just as well here as anywhere, and they don't need me at the site now the plans are made up. Plus, you've got the better equipment". 

It was true that he would hear the punching bag at any and all hours of the night, even if there was a strange emptiness to the routine when he did catch sight of it. They never spoke of it but there was an appeal in the notion that, now they'd settled their agreement, Joe was satisfied as well. 

The house may have been all on one level but there were still the last few contractors to see in and adapt it for his new lifestyle, and so Joe took to making their meals while the kitchen was too awkward for him to use. It was usually healthy and filling, although being unused to having the wide variety of spices that lined Yuri's kitchens meant that there were several unfortunate experiments that landed unceremoniously in the bin. Then it would be arm-wrestling for the choice of takeout, the spark of competition easily rekindled in an echo of the fire and force they had been in the ring before calming into quiet evenings among cheap burger wrappers as Yuri relaxed on the sofa, book in hand while Joe played tug of war with Hachi. At night he would sleep on the sofa bed in Yuri's room, standing guard for the bad nights when the pain would hit him in the middle of the night, muscles screaming as Joe talked him through it and forcing pills between his clenching teeth.

It would have been simpler to be self-conscious in those moments of weakness, that same pain he had endured in the immediate aftermath of his surgery leaving him shivering as warm fingers pushed through his sweat-damp hair. There was never any judgement though, only a ready helping hand, and he had nothing to prove preventing him from accepting it. It was that same open hand that helped him through the physiotherapy exercises; small and shaking steps as Joe watched on, quiet but ready to catch him if he stumbled. It was hardly the frenetic footwork of only a month or so beforehand, but it was progress that he would gladly take; he was used to subjugating his body, and this was only an extension of the process. He was slowly getting used to the lightness of his arms without the embedded metal and motors and the old familiarity of having to rely on his own body, without any modification. The technology had been sublime and had melded with his own physiology seamlessly, but there was a freedom in being completely his own again and without the responsibility of branding and other's expectations. It was control, and it felt good.

As the renovations came in he was gradually more at home, and their strange equilibrium shifted as Joe's self-appointed duties lessened day by day. He would vanish for hours and come back full of news of the construction and well-wishes, sometimes bringing one or more of the kids back with him to hang out or pick through his old gear and equipment in a very unsubtle data collection trip. In return Yuri would take the day from time to time, business meetings and interviews dragging him back into town, or heading to Mikio's to get Yukiko's news like they were kids on the playground.

The only thing that never changed as the days blended together was their morning ritual as Joe massaged ointment into the carnage of his shoulders and nape, the rhythmic motion across his skin as important to his relaxation as the temporary numbness the lotion bestowed. It was always quiet, nothing but soft touches and firm fingers where the gear had dug into him before: He'd been both good and lucky enough in the ring to survive without serious injury before but the patchwork of white scars across Joe's dark skin reminded him how routine this must have been for him, and held his tongue when Joe insisted on changing his dressing every other day. 

The routine continued until it was time for the stitches to come out.

"We don't need a nurse, I've been taking out my own stitches my whole life," Joe assured, ushering Yuri to lie down on the bed as he brandished tweezers and nail scissors. 

"Did it ever go wrong?" he asked as he settled himself down, curious but not worried.

"Coupla times, yeah, but it taught me a lot."

The bed sank beneath Joe's weight and he relaxed into the usual slow peel of his bandage and sudden prickling of skin as an antiseptic wipe swept along his spine. Neither spoke as the quiet sounds of clips and careful breaths filled the room, Yuri tensing at the unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling of the sutures slipping free of his flesh until finally the last of the wounds had been taken care of.

Joe released a ragged sigh that had him wondering how much of the swagger had been legitimate, then shifted as he heard another wipe being pulled from the pack.

"You know, the journos told me you'd bitten it, back before we knew what had happened."

Joe's tone was thin, and so quiet Yuri almost missed the words. He hummed and waited for Joe to continue as the cold moved slowly across his back.

"I think they wanted me to regret it, or say something against you for havin' it taken off, but I didn't feel it. Still don't."

"I don't want you-"

"No, it's not that. I felt... greed. It was something like greed." The wipe paused. "I'd been kicking my heels for so long before we ran into each other, and even though we'd finally made it into the ring together I didn't want you to vanish all satisfied and leave me to figure out what to do all over again."

Yuri tried to push himself over but a strong hand pressed against his ribs and he settled back against the bed.

"It's stupid, don't...just forget it."

His touch lingered, tracing along the tender lines of scars that still stood out bright red. 

"You look better all scarred up anyway," Joe said, louder, closer. "Brings you down to the same level as the rest of us."

His fingers brushed along his shoulders before leaving him, and by the time Yuri flipped himself over Joe had gathered all his supplies together and was on his way out of the room. 

"Joe," he started, but when he caught his eye it was clear the moment was gone, the usual vibrancy - or a veneer of it - in his expression.

"'Night, champion," Joe called back as he left. It was the first night he'd spent outside of Yuri's bedroom, and the unease stuck with him as he lay in the dark, one hand stroking across the long hair of Hachi's back, waiting for sleep.

The next morning he found Joe at the door, silhouetted by the morning light streaming through the glass.

"I'd should be getting along." he said, quieter than usual.

"I'll see you around, Junk Dog." 

There was a new tension to the silence between them, different from the bloodlust of before, and an unwelcome distance tugged at the edges of his smile as he watched Joe ruffle Hachi's ears as the dog happily panted up at him. It got under his skin, like the challenge to a fight, and he stayed unsettled long after his erstwhile-rival had waved him goodbye and walked out into the sunshine. 

The feeling sat with him no matter how he tried not to notice how quiet the house was, the comments he would make without reply, or Hachi's lonely whining. He couldn't ignore the shame as he came in the middle of the night, head full of memories, wishing Joe was there and then cursing himself for the thought.

He didn't see Joe for months after that, outside of the odd short interview that would spread across the internet amid the constant articles. His presence was inescapable, the impact his rise and Yuri's subsequent fall had made on the industry felt in every professional meeting he'd been in across the year. 

He'd retired from the fight but he'd had managed a rather shaky transition into being a pundit for megalo boxing tournaments, and had even been invited along to the first standard boxing competition to take place in the city for years; one that was supposed to also feature an appearance from Gearless Joe that never materialised outside of a short video clip of him approving of the effort set against a backdrop of endless desert. It was an interesting weekend regardless, watching the fighters adapt to the new circumstances and revel in the reborn sport, compensating for counterweights that no longer existed and speed that was lost, relearning their bodies' limits.

He hadn't meant to make his way in the direction of Gym Nowhere the morning of its anniversary. He'd heard about it offhandedly through the network he'd slipped into but hadn't given it any weight. Sachio was unexpected; the invite even more so. It wasn't his gym and it wasn't his team, and yet they'd been good to him. It would be worth it even if he didn't come along during the brunt of the celebrations; if nothing else he wanted to see what had finally become of the prize money that had come from their final fight.

The party was loud and the joyous atmosphere viciously contagious. He'd tried to make an inconspicuous entrance but the whole crowd had stopped to usher him in with shouts that Hachi returned heartily. There was laughter, suspicious looking glasses of liquid and a cluster of people coming up to introduce themselves or congratulate him on his new career. It was pleasant, more relaxed and happier than the thousands of networking functions he'd attended over the year. It was improved immensely when he was finally left with the various members of Team Nowhere, who welcomed him in with open arms. Sachio led him on an enthusiastic tour of the building as Nanbu talked about the various sponsors they had lined up, and Yuri reciprocated with names and details of people they should be meeting with. 

Then Joe pulled him aside and the easy flow returned instantly. They'd carved out a little niche apart from the party to look over the expanse of the bay, but as the night settled in and the alcohol flowed freely it got harder to concentrate on their quiet conversation over the drunken roar.

"Let's get out of here," Joe murmured, easing himself up from underneath a considerably hefty canine and taking up his old position by the handles.

"Won't people notice you're gone?"

"S'not my night," he said, obvious affection in his voice as he turned back to look back at Nanbu, who was roaring with laughter in the middle of the celebrations.

"That's fair enough."

They took the ramp down to the narrow trail alongside the water's edge, lit only by the city's glittering reflection and the vague glow of distant streetlights. Hachi had stayed with the last of the grilling meat, leaving them more alone than they had been for a long time. Joe started to hum a tune he didn't recognise and he let himself sink into the calm atmosphere that pervaded the night.

"I didn't need you to look after me," he said at last

He hadn't meant to voice the thoughts that had stayed with him through the weeks of care, coupled to the vague fear Joe had felt indebted or duty bound, but this was the last chance he had.

"I know," Joe replied, slow and level. "If it was me I'd have tried to struggle through it on my own, which didn't seem right - especially now that I have a team to barge into my personal space if I'm being an ass. I'd have left fast enough if you said you didn't want me there. Did you? Not want me."

"It's not that," Yuri replied, and they settled back into the quiet rhythm of water hitting the embankment and wheels against rough asphalt, the celebrations a far-off wordless rumble. 

Joe was the first to break the spell.

"So, Gym Nowhere's going to be needing a seeing eye coach, and there's been some pretty big hints."

Yuri chuckled. 

"I hope he's budgeting for a ring-side ramp."

"We've got me to go in the ring with the new blood but you've got more experience with the pro circuit than we could even dream of, better instincts than anyone and the training to get people to be able to do the same. We'd be lucky to have you, especially with how busy you've been recently, popping up all over the place." 

Yuri smiled, wondering how often they'd been checking in on him. It was an intriguing prospect, and he longed to be back with the smell of canvas, blood and sweat rather than the sterility of commentary boxes.

"I'll come by sometime and see what you have," he said.

"Good!" Joe enthused. "We need to keep you down in the grit of it, so you're not too far above us when you're recovered and cross the ropes. I can't wait to dance with you again."

Yuri let the naïve optimism slide off him. 

"Is that what all this has been about?" he asked, mouth twisting.

"No, it would just be an added benefit."

Yuri shifted in his chair.

"I can still dance, but it wouldn't be a fair match."

"Hmm?"

He eased on the brakes and they slowed to a halt. He could hear Joe moving around to face him and he braced his hands on the arms of the chair to test his weight.

It was as much of a balancing act to get himself on his own two feet as it always was, but he was determined to keep his head up and his eyes on Joe. He didn't move or make a sound, but the look of triumph in his eyes when he took the first wobbling step towards him said enough. It was only a few steps over to him but they were all slow and hard won, his focus locked on keeping the tremor from his limbs. 

An age later he stood before him, both with matching grins.

"Did you have a step in mind?"

"How 'bout we start off with the classic? Keep it simple."

He held out his hand, and Yuri stepped into place with a wry smile as Joe's hand slid onto his back. He couldn't argue against the support. 

It was a clumsy waltz to the tune of Joe's rough, out of tune humming; his feet dragged weakly and Joe's footwork was decidedly stilted and heavy compared to the quick step he used in the ring. It was exhilarating regardless, a shadow of any time they'd faced each other with a fighting intent but the faint light picked out the same fire in Joe's eyes, a familiar call to push himself that he couldn't help but oblige.

Yuri had hardly been one for dancing before the ring dominated his life, but his body remembered enough of the steps that they mostly avoided stepping on each other, the steady beat helping his shaking legs to stay under control and the firm grasp of their hands a welcome distraction. They stood apart, breath misting between their bodies in the cool night, and he realised with a start that it was the first time he'd been this close to Joe, facing him without a fist raised; even during his initial recovery they'd kept themselves separate, outside of the moments where Joe had been attending to his back and Yuri was turned away on the bed. Now he had the time to watch him for the sake of it, to take in the rough edges of his paling scars and how his thick eyebrows knit together as he gave up the tune to focus on counting the rhythm with the same intensity as he'd used with Aragaki. 

Joe dipped him; his right leg screamed as it held his weight but Joe's expression stilled his rebuke. He was so close, eyes fixed on Yuri's mouth, and for a moment it looked as if he would close the gap. It passed and he was lifted back to his feet, Joe looking over his shoulder as he subtly shook his head. It was more impulse than conscious decision that pushed Yuri forward to press their lips together; sudden, askew, and sure. Muscles tensed under his fingers, then the shock wore off and he was pulled flush into a bruising kiss. There was nothing gentle to their clawing hands and nipping teeth, panting open-mouthed into each other as they gave and took in equal portion with their adrenaline rising high. 

Yuri smiled even as his knees gave way and they sank down to kneel in the drying grass of the embankment. He was full of all the same hot blood as when they had faced each other in the final, the pliant skin under his hands the same that he had layered bruises into over hours of punishment, the same hot breath, wild eyes and thrill of living, pawing at each others' clothing until they had hands on hot flesh.

"As expected of a champion," Joe grinned as he gave Yuri's cock a few experimental tugs, and he was too tightly wound to respond, shutting him up with another wet kiss as his own fingers found their mark. Their actions were no more fluid in the heat of passion as they had been in their shambling dance; all too-quick motions, over-harsh pulls and completely intoxicating as they moved together once more, the balance shifting between them as they pushed and pulled. The air was thick with sweat, skin silken under his hand and he watched as his own twists and strokes were echoed in Joe's quick expressions, flair taken as a challenge to repeat and improve on as his heart raced and he felt himself edge closer to climax.

He was surprised to watch it pulse through Joe first, his hold tightening fractionally before all the tension washed out of him and hot liquid spattered his hand. He didn't have time to revel in his victory before Joe's hand shifted again and he followed him over the edge, leaving them slumped into each other's shoulders, chests heaving and laughter bright in the dark.

Yuri never officially became a coach for Team Nowhere, but he haunted the gym anyway; Joe pulling his punches and fudging his footwork to help them out as he and Nanbu heckled the new kids from the ropes. Then the two of them trailing slowly back to Yuri's home, now riddled with bike parts and abandoned boxing magazines amid the littered dog toys. Nowhere had accepted him, fittingly enough, and it brought with it a belonging he had rarely felt within the clinical halls of Shirato. It was a shift from the life he'd known, but it was a good one - full of the love of the fight, and full of Joe.


End file.
